


A Moment Stolen

by herwhiteknight



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Gay Tension & YEARNING, Inspired by Art, Pre-Relationship, thank u frankielucky for my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24801940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herwhiteknight/pseuds/herwhiteknight
Summary: Yang’s forehead bumped gently against hers and Blake closed her eyes against the touch, an engulfing of darkness meant only to soak in warmth. When she opened her eyes again, Yang’s nose was brushing against hers and her gaze was boring into Blake’s with an intensity that made her shiver.“Here,” Yang murmured, nearly pulling Blake against her chest as they sought a closeness they’d always felt, but could never touch. Not until tonight.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 19
Kudos: 137





	A Moment Stolen

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to fic this fan art of frankie's ever since it came out because i was just Struck by it. slender aprhodite... she begged me to weave.. words together to make a fic that could somehow maybe translate even a fraction of the emotion that i feel when i look at it onto the page. i hope i did it justice even slightly! bc gods do i ever love her art.
> 
> specifically, i wrote a snapshot of this scene here from the final panel of her most recent bees comic::
> 
> https://frankielucky.tumblr.com/post/619812628476444672/start-prev-end-did-i-draw-a-17-part-comic-just

There was a silence that surrounded the space between them, and to Blake, it felt like chasms. There were bridges to be built within their breath, but in that moment - only silence. It laid a foundation, and demanded a fortress.

Yang’s forehead bumped gently against hers and Blake closed her eyes against the touch, an engulfing of darkness meant only to soak in warmth. When she opened her eyes again, Yang’s nose was brushing against hers and her gaze was boring into Blake’s with an intensity that made her shiver.

“Here,” Yang murmured, nearly pulling Blake against her chest as they sought a closeness they’d always felt, but could never touch. Not until tonight.

But even with Yang’s arms wound around her shoulders, the softness of her sweater tickling gently at the bare skin of the nape of Blake’s neck, something deep inside Blake deemed it not enough. She brought her hand up to Yang’s face, tucking stray hairs behind her ear with such care that it bordered on reverence. “Do you remember,” she started suddenly, laying down the bridge’s cornerstone, unable to take the thickness of the air any longer. “In the gardens? Back at Beacon,” she amended, as if Yang wouldn’t know.

Yang sighed heavily, sharing the loaded weight of their collective memory. So much had changed since then, the distance between them most of all. “I remember the way you were first so excited to show them to me,” Yang grinned, pressing her cheek into Blake’s hand as it remained cupped around her jaw. “You even had me skipping class for the first time just so it could be  _ our secret _ .”

Blake flicked her on the nose with her free hand as she rolled her eyes. “I told you before that I’m no angel,” she said, a teasing taunt on her lips even as her arm settled around Yang’s shoulders in a mirror of Yang’s hold on her.

Yang stuck her tongue out at her, and it made Blake’s heart stutter, her eyes drifting down to Yang’s lips with the weight of something heavier than gravity. “It’s hardly a convincing argument,” Yang just said, but her eyes darkened a shade as she caught the direction of Blake’s gaze. “Not when you look so much like the part.”

Blake almost did it then. Their breath had mingled in the space between them enough, there was a bridge to cross, understanding that was built. But - no. Not quite. There were still words to say. And a final obstacle to overcome. “Do you remember… what you had asked of me, then?”

A flash of the garden, of sunlight. Of Blake’s hair tumbling down her shoulders, of the corner of her lip tipped upward in an absent smile as she read. “I remember the way you turned to me,” she started, slow, letting the moment play out. A gust of wind had nearly stolen Blake’s pages away from her, and Yang had reached out to stop them from turning. A moment stolen in time.

“You asked me...” Blake said, deliberate in matching her tone with Yang’s, taking the same steps across the same bridge towards the same goal. 

“What it was like to kiss someone,” she nodded, quiet and transported. It wasn’t the question she wanted to ask, not when it was just some  _ faceless  _ someone - not when Blake had been so close, giggling and weaving a flower crown and tangling her fingers in Yang’s hair after placing it on her head.

“And I said…,” Blake murmured, not really in those gardens the way that Yang was - not when her whole world was just the lilac of Yang’s irises before her, the shared air between their lips, the soft touch of their bodies pressed against one another. She drew her thumb across Yang’s lower lip, feeling the heat of it sear across her skin. Intoxicated. She could barely breathe. “I told you... not to kiss anyone - not unless you meant it.”

“Blake,” Yang said on the heaviest of breaths, like the world had been pinned in place by that one syllable alone and that all else would cease in motion had it not been for that one anchor. She looked at Blake through a hooded gaze, her fingers threading through her hair, tugging tight in desperation. “What is going on with us?”

Blake surged forward then, as if swept along by an undertow. She almost did it then too, but - no. Her palm pressed against Yang’s lips and her lips collided messily with her own knuckles. There was a moment where the world stopped existing - and it didn’t restart again until Yang understood what was happening, and pressed her lips against Blake’s fingers, hot and obviously wanting.

There was a barrier there, physical now, in the way that Blake kept her hand against Yang’s mouth. And as much as Blake wanted to cross that bridge and walk the path on the other side as something completely unbreakable, she knew that it wasn’t the right moment for either of them to label their future as a forever. 

But it  _ would  _ be, one day. Blake saw themselves hurtling towards that unity along an undeniable trajectory along a path they promised that they’d never leave. She pulled back at this thought, her fingers slipping from Yang’s lips first, offering the ghostly touch of her lips against Yang’s own for the briefest of moments. And  _ oh,  _ how dangerous that touch was.

Instead, she whispered, “I’m not ready yet.” She shook her head imperceptibly, brushing an errant tear away from Yang’s cheek, soothing her stunned expression. “But… I would mean it.” Then she gathered Yang in her arms as Yang collapsed forward, burying her face in the safety of Blake’s shoulder. “And I promise you this,” Blake said, inhaling the scent of her as she buried her nose in Yang’s hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
